Casualty of War
by Gemmi
Summary: I was scared to say hi, the first day. He wasn't. The rest of the years just flowed. *slash*


Casualty of War  
  
i. Instant Karma  
  
He said hi before I did, and I thought that was why I hated him; He approached me, and looked me over, and I just sat there and let him. I let his eyes wander over my body, sizing me up as if I was nothing more then a piece of meat. I would have approached him, at least, I'd like to think that I would have approached him, but I was scared. He looked mean, but not evil. Even then I knew the difference. He was the type that would torture a rat, but never kill it, and that might not be much of a distinction, but it was enough for me.  
I didn't say hi back, the first time, and he walked away without smiling.  
  
ii. Energize  
  
It might have been a year or two later, or simply a few days; the time was nothing more then a blur, and I felt energized after winning a quidditch game. I said hi, and he looked at me, and somehow the mean streak had left him, because he said hi back, and we smiled.  
Nothing else happened, but it was enough for now.  
  
iii. Logic.  
  
Neither of us said hi the next time, and his lips were harsh and applied pressure in unique ways that I hadn't even dreamt about, not yet. I felt the grate of his teeth against mine, and I shuddered, and he touched my cock. But I didn't come, and he didn't come, and that was probably why he left me alone in the dark.  
I don't mind the dark, but the emptiness scared me.  
  
iv. Swallow  
  
He asked me if I swallowed this time, before a greeting was uttered, and I nodded shyly and knelt. He didn't unbutton his pants though, instead he turned away and walked down the stairs that had brought him to me, and laughed. I knelt for a long time that evening, and eventually I found another cock to suck, but it wasn't his, and I didn't swallow.  
I didn't meet his eyes the next time he looked at me.  
  
v. Blissful  
  
Summer was blissful that year; I didn't have to try to understand people, and I didn't have to talk to him, and everyone who met me said hi and laughed. They thought I was funny, and in a way I guess I was, but only sometimes, and never after dark.  
I didn't like the emptiness that accompanied the evening sky, and I stopped leaving my window open at night.  
  
vi. Tangled  
  
Second day of school I tripped and got myself tangled on his legs. He didn't say hi, but he kept me down and asked if I still swallowed. I shook my head and he nodded, before letting me up. I didn't say bye when I left, but my lips were kiss swollen and his were bruised and tough.  
Third day of school I tripped once more.  
  
vii. Casualty  
  
When the Yule Ball came around, all the girls crowded him and laughed that fake, annoying laugh that suggested a lack of brains, all in an attempt to get him. I didn't fawn over him, and I certainly didn't laugh, but I was sad when he kissed each of them in turn before deciding to take the leggy blond that had huge tits and a tight ass to the dance. Once there, each song was a battle determined to be won by some girl or another. I sat in the corner and sulked, never once joining the battlefield.  
We weren't in a relationship, but I still felt like a casualty of war.  
  
viii. Eavesdrop  
  
My friends didn't mean any harm, but they were overprotective and vindictive, determined to project their Harry. And he did have a reputation around the school as being something of a punkass who liked to get into trouble, and liked getting girls in trouble even more. So they talked a lot of talk, and a little bit of shit went down inside our group, but nothing big. Nothing big until the one day I went up to him and tried to kiss him; and he punched me in the face, hard. He muttered something about my friends not being to smart. I laughed, and then walked away.   
I warned him not to eavesdrop in the future, but he didn't listen.  
  
ix. Monastery  
  
The next time I tripped over his feet, it was a day before Christmas vacation, and I had been living like a monk for nearly a six months. He looked at me and shuddered before turning away, and I grabbed at his ankle, but it wasn't enough. He didn't laugh this time, but the look of hatred that ran across his face was more then enough to convince me to never leave my monastery.  
I didn't touch my dick for the entire break.  
  
x. Ink  
  
He came back from Christmas Break looking tough, as if nothing possibly could hurt him, as if he had been through hell and back, and because I hadn't been there, I couldn't imagine, and therefore I was left in the dust. He didn't say hi, but we had dispensed with the formality of manners nearly two years earlier, so I wasn't shocked. He pushed me down to my knees, and I learned that he wanted me to swallow this time, that something in him had changed, and I was no little more then a servant. After he was done, I grabbed his arm to help me pull myself up, and he flinched. Slowly it dawned on me, and he nodded. Carefully, I rolled up his sleeve and outlined the ink that seemed to burn still.  
I didn't say bye when I left, but both of us knew there wouldn't be another meeting.  
  
xi. Permission  
  
He looked desperate at his trial- scared and alone and begging for permission to breathe. I wanted to explain how sorry I was for looking out for my friends, I wanted to explain how he had been loved, but not loved enough because of a little bit of ink on his right arm. I wanted to hug him close and give him permission to cry, because I knew he was holding his pain in, and that couldn't be good. Wouldn't be good. His eyes were solid, though, and nothing could penetrate. He looked dark, and I was scared because of the emptiness that reflected back at me. He was sentenced to the kiss, a final act of passion that would end his life. I was sentenced to live, a final act that would take all the courage I could muster, and then some. It okay though, because I never gave him permission to die, but he gave me the will to live. He smiled and nodded, and I learned.  
Maybe we were both casualties of an undying war called life, but I'll never know. I think it's better this way.  
  
  
  
~fin~ 


End file.
